


A Penny for Your Thoughts

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Regret, Suicide, Winter Setting, ask to tag, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7038811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck at Castle Araluen by a blizzard while visiting, Will and Halt decide to catch up with a few friends. With Halt, that meant Duncan and Crowley. For Will, that meant Horace, the two greatly missing each other's company with their recent separation. One day Will sees something out a window that distances him from Horace, and his partner is determined to discover what he saw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Penny for Your Thoughts

Even indoors it was cold.

It wasn't as if a window was open or anything, but the cold just seeped through the stone walls. Maybe that was what drew Will to the window in the first place, even though the window only looked down on the empty, snow covered courtyard. No one would have been out there, not with the blizzards that have been blowing in every other day, not with how cold it was.

And yet, as he tuned out Horace, Halt, and Cassie's conversation, he leaned towards the window, wondering what he would see, not expecting to see anything.

He paused, his hand on the window frame and his head resting on the side. What was that?

Oh.

It was a few minutes later before Horace noticed that his partner was no longer standing at his side. Unconsciously, he had reached out with his hand, looking for Will's own. Around others company, they'd gotten into the habit of holding hands underneath the table. But this time, Will wasn't there to catch Horace's groping hand.

Horace looked up, breaking off mid-sentence. Will still stood at the window, his eyes fixed on something out there. Would there be anything in the courtyard during weather like this? No sane person would go out there, and it wasn't as if someone would need to go through it to get somewhere in the castle. It was just a small outside area in the middle of the castle, a nice respite from the monotonous colors indoors.

"Will?" Horace waited for a reply, but none came. As he watched, the color drained from Will's face, but his eyes never wavered. Halt and Cassandra's voices died beside him, both of them noticing their friend at the window. According to appearances, nothing seemed _wrong_ , except for the fact that his face was nearly as white as the snow outside.

But Horace could see the difference. The curl of his lip, the clenched jaw, the widened eyes; the way his eyes focused on one thing, while his hand was gripping the frame and going white with the effort. The fear in his eyes.

Brusquely, the knight stood, fast enough that his heavy oak chair when skittering back. He didn't have to go far to reach him, thankfully. Horace took hold of Will's other arm, the one hanging limply at his side. He wanted to put his other arm around Will's waist and draw him away from the window, but that wouldn't seem the most "friendly" thing he could do. Instead, he settled for placing it on his shoulder, and looking past him to see what he was looking at.

But there was nothing in the courtyard.

"Will?" he tried shaking his shoulder a little, but that elicited no reaction from the Ranger. He just stood there. Staring at nothing.

"He all right?" Halt said from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Horace looked between the Princess and the other Ranger, before shrugging, and turning back to Will.

After studying the young Ranger for a few more seconds, Horace decided to do something simple, just to see if it would work. He let go of his arm, but kept the other on his shoulder. Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers centimeters from Will's nose.

He blinked. And he blinked again.

"Will?" Horace asked once more, lightly tapping his cheek. Will, of all people, being this out of it that he could walk up and touch him without him noticing? Pursing his lips, Horace realized they would have to talk later. And this was only their second night back together.

Suddenly, his partner jerked away, and Horace was forced to let go of his shoulder, or be pulled back with him. Then his knees buckled.

"Will!" he exclaimed again, snatching back out for his arm just in time to prevent his head from knocking against the table. Halt quickly came around to their side, and together they helped a half-conscious Will sit in Horace's abandoned chair.

Yet when the knight finally got a look at Will's face again, it held the same blank look it had earlier had when he had been staring out the window. Repeating his name again, Horace tapped his knee, needing to know if he was all right. He certainly didn't look it.

It was still a few seconds before he responded, but when he did, it wasn't exactly the way that was expected. His already wan face went paler, and suddenly—he looked as if he was going to be sick.

"'Scuse me," he mumbled, standing up and nearly bowling over Horace in his attempt to escape. He went past Cass, nearly taking her out as well as he slipped through the door, running.

Horace glanced to Halt. Halt glanced to Horace. Horace looked to Cassandra, who looked back, before glancing to Halt. Horace followed after Will, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

It took a while to find him, but eventually the knight decided just to see if he could have just went to his room. Beforehand, he had checked all of the spots he had seen his partner hide in, for one reason or another. He had been in none of them, although he wasn't exactly willing to go check all of the outdoor spots in their current weather condition.

Tapping on the door, Horace paused a few moments before just opening it, and stepping inside. He didn't hear a protest as he walked in, so continued past the front entry way. The small sitting room, with a small fireplace and kitchenette, were empty, but the single door in the small apartment, which he knew led to a bedroom, was shut.

"Will?" Horace moved towards the bedroom, noticing a shadow moving underneath the door. "You okay?" Instead of knocking, he tried the handle and found the door unlocked. He pushed it open, first seeing the corner of a bed pushed underneath a large window, and then a bedside table.

From what he could tell, Will wasn't in the room.

Edging into the room, Horace realized that his first impression was wrong. Will was in the room.

Curled up, beside the previously empty privy bucket in the opposite corner of the room. Something was in the bucket now, and from the color of Will's face, and the smell, it was obvious he had just thrown up.

"Bud, what happened?" he murmured, moving up behind him. Grabbing his arm, he pulled the Ranger away from the bucket, so at least his face wasn't so close to the murky, chunky liquid within.

Will mumbled something that the knight couldn't decipher, but didn't resist when Horace bent down beside him, and put a hand underneath his chin.

It wasn't for a while that Horace got Will to stand up, and move away from the vomit filled privy. After getting Will to lay down in the bed, he went back into the small entry way to call for a servant to clear away the bucket. While he waited, he went back into Will's room, pulled a blanket over his partner's shoulders, and felt his forehead for his temperature. Slightly warm, but nothing to be concerned about. When he went out to get a glass of water for him, someone knocked quietly at the door. The servant entered and left silently, knowing who's room they were at. After Horace closed the door on their back, after saying a thanks, he turned back to the room.

He was still curled on the bed, facing the wall and window with his back to the rest of the room. Horace sat on the end of the bed, and placed a hand on Will's thigh, hoping to at least catch his attention.

"Will, you okay?" he whispered, leaning back to see if he could at least see his face.

While he didn't turn around, he did respond, which were the first words he had said since he excused himself: "I—I just . . . just saw something . . ." he stalled, taking a deep breath. Reaching out to clutch a pillow, he buried his face in it. "It just shocked me, I guess," came his muffled finish.

"Do you mind me asking what you saw?" Horace squeezed Will's leg reassuringly. That's how he knew that he had said something wrong. Will's body stiffened, and his legs drew up to his chest, forcing Horace's hand off his thigh.

"It—it doesn't matter," he mumbled, and went silent. Horace didn't know what to say in return, so just sat there at the end of the bed, looking concernly at him. A few minutes passed, before Will shifted his body, drawing his shoulders in, and curling into a tighter ball.

Not knowing what else he should do, Horace sighed, and stood up. "I'll leave you to sleep then," he whispered, and resituated the blanket so it covered him entirely.

He was halfway to the door before Will spoke again: "W-wait . . ."

Horace turned, and looked across the room to his partner, waiting to hear what he would say.

A blush crawled up Will's face, who was looking over his shoulder to Horace. There was a look to his eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and terror. "C-can you stay?"

Horace raised an eyebrow. Will's cheeks reddened, and when he saw the knight's lips quirk up, suddenly scowled. He opened him mouth to deny it, to deny having to say it, to deny not needing Horace to say—but the taller man held up a hand, stalling the Ranger's tirade. "No, no, Will, it's fine. I don't care, or mind, at all."

Slipping his shoes off, Horace tugged his jacket off as well before he sat beside Will, and swung his legs onto the bed. Will rolled over, and set his head on Horace's chest, as his partner slipped an arm around his shoulders. They fit together almost perfectly, as if they were made as one, but split roughly at the edges when they were separated.

"Someone could notice," Will mumbled, his face buried in Horace's shirt.

"It doesn't matter," Horace responded, looking down on Will's head. Horace seemed to consider something for a few seconds, before he said, "If anyone asks, which I honestly doubt they will, I'll just say you were sick, and that I wanted to be sure you would be all right, so I slept in the chair at the hearth. Simple."

Will snorted, "You're not actually going to sleep in the chair, though, right?"

"Oh, hell no," Horace said, smiling, "I'm warm now, and comfy. You're not moving me anytime soon."

Snickering, the Ranger hooked one of his legs around Horace's, and wrapped an arm around his torso. "Have you spoken to Cassandra casually recently?"

Frowning, Horace shook his head. While they spoke, he studied the ceiling, studying the stone and the color and how the hearth from the other room flickered shadows on the ceiling from the crack he had left open. "No, not really. We don't speak much, other than things for work."

"Did you see the way she looked at you? When I was in the chair, and you were trying to get me to say something?"

"No? But you did?" Horace asked curiously. "I didn't think you were exactly there with us?"

Will was silent, a slight tension in his body, before he just continued with what he had been saying, instead of answering Horace's unspoken question. "Her eyes were going between the two of us. She probably suspects something."

Shaking his head again, Horace laughed, "No, if anyone suspects anything, it's Halt."

Snorting, the Ranger tightened his grip around Horace, burying his face into his chest. The silence settled around them, the two comfortable with the other without words filling the void between them. It wasn't before Horace shifted his back, enabling him to look down to Will's face.

"Will?" he whispered.

Although still pale, he lifted his face up, so they could both see the other's face. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright. "Hm?"

"Are . . . are you sure you're all right? You still seem a bit strained."

A small smile broke across the Ranger's face, "Oh, Horace, yea, I'm fine," he responded. The smile flickered for a moment, but he was able to keep it up. But Horace noticed how Will looked away from their eye contact when he said: "I was just shocked, I guess. Nothing bad."

"What shocked you? Did you see something?" A look passed across Will's face, causing Horace to quickly add: "You—if it bothers you, you don't have to tell me."

Will shrugged, the uncomfortable look still in his eyes. Not a physical discomfort, but an emotional and mental one. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, but hesitating. Horace didn't pressure him, waiting for him to find his words himself. Eventually, Will shut his mouth, twisting it into a grimace. Then, "I just saw someone," he whispered. He hesitated once more, considering his words carefully. "But I couldn't have seen them. It's impossible for me to have seen them."

Horace frowned, studying Will as he continued.

"I know them to be dead. It's impossible for them to have survived," he finished, his words barely louder than his breath.

Not knowing what to say, Horace remained silent for some time. If it had been someone Will had known to be dead, than the answer to that was simple. It wasn't them, just someone who looked similar. Or no one was ever there in the first place. The window his Ranger had been looking out of faced into an isolated courtyard that was buried in snow. Horace explained that to Will, explaining his reasoning as thorough as he could. The knight reasoned to himself that if he was able to disprove Will's idea, then it wouldn't bother him.

As he spoke, he felt Will's stiff shoulders finally once more relax into his embrace. At a glance, he saw that his monotonous voice must have been soothing, as his eyes were drooping, and he was evidently dropping off to sleep. Casually, Horace changed subjects, but made sure there was no break in his voice. By then, he knew it was just his voice, and not the subject, that lulled Will into a comfortable sleep.

He continued to talk until he was sure that his partner was completely asleep, then let his voice trail off. Horace fell asleep after a while, studying Will's strained yet relaxed features.

* * *

When Horace awoke, it immediately registered with him that Will was in his arms, and he wasn't in his own rooms. Seeing the light stream in through the partially covered window, he realized that he had been there too long.

The hardest part wasn't leaving the warm blankets behind, but slipping himself out from underneath Will, who still had his arms clutched around his torso. The Ranger would have wakened even if he hadn't been moved, but when Horace clumsily removed his body from Will's arms, he was forced to open his eyes.

"Horace?" Will mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he gripped a few blankets to pull them up to his chin. Horace had caused them to fall off, opening him to the cold, winter air.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Horace started to pull his boots on, lacing them up only halfway before going onto the next one. "Go back to sleep, bud. I just have to go back to my rooms, to at least keep up an appearance," Horace whispered in return as he grabbed one of the blankets that had slid to the foot of the bed. He drew it up to Will's chin, bundling him in.

Will nodded sleepily, but pushed the blankets down below his face. "Won't people see you?"

Grinning, Horace stood and picked up his jacket from where he let it fall to the ground. "I have my ways. Araluen's an old castle, and plenty of people had odd superstitions and suppositions that are fairly useful."

"Meaning you know of a hidden passageway, and didn't tell me." Will forced a frown, looking up to his boyfriend in mock offense. "And you didn't tell me," he repeated.

Bending over him, Horace kissed him once more, a brief touch between their lips in a silent goodbye.

Before he left the room, the knight turned back to Will. "Go back to sleep. You still have a few hours of rest before everyone starts bothering you."

Horace left him curled in the bed beneath who know's how many blankets. He had to admit, when he slipped down the hall, that the cold was truly seeping through the stones this winter. He could see his breath in the air has he turned down one of the lesser used halls. Eventually, he would get to his rooms from a hidden passageway back there. It would take longer, going around the outer walls, and doubly colder, but no one would see him.

Ten minutes later, and he was outside his apartment door, drawing the key from his pocket.

"Sir Horace?"

Looking up, the knight's eyes landed on a uniformed guard, eyes alert and awake for such an early time. Unable to recall the woman's name, Horace put a few fingers to the bridge of his nose, and waved for her to continue. "Yes?"

She stood to attention, uncertainty suddenly clouding her eyes. "Ah, well, sir . . . You see," she paused, but continued with little hesitation, "a few guards on duty saw Ranger Will head out into the central courtyard and gardens."

Frowning, Horace dropped his hand. Robyn, he remembered, was her name. "What?"

"He went into the central courtyard and gardens, with no cloak. The guards on duty weren't even sure if he was wearing shoes. They sent me to come find you, because they didn't know who else to—"

"Wait," Horace interrupted, "he went _outside_ , without a cloak or shoes?"

Robyn bit her lip, but nodded. He didn't wait to see if she had anything else to say. He sprinted down the hall she had come from, heading directly for the courtyard Will had been looking into the other day. Behind him, he heard Robyn trying to keep up with him, but having difficulties with her uniform and light armor. He left her behind.

Three other guards were waiting at the gate that lead into the courtyard. "Sir Horace," one of them said, who had the bars of a captain on their sleeve. "He just went out, and only Jarn saw him. No one is usually posted at this gate, but when he saw someone go out in their pajamas . . ." The captain hesitated, but then seemed to register that they weren't alone. "Jarn, Hilda, get back on duty. What're you doing waiting around?" At that, it was like Horace wasn't even there. The captain turned away, shooing Jarn and Hilda away. That was when Robyn rounded the corner, and the captain grabbed her as well, towing her down the hall.

Horace pushed through the gate, opening the barred and locked door. He was hit with a blast of cold wind immediately, some flakes of snow blown in as well. By the time he caught his breath, the cold air stinging his lungs, a small pile of snow had been blown in and surrounded his feet.

Sighing, he stepped into the snow.

He wasn't exactly prepared for how _cold_ it was. He knew it was winter, knew it was cold out. Except he wasn't wearing any type of cloak or anything, except his normal jacket. His jacket didn't do much in keeping the cold from him.

Will stood in the center of a snow dune, looking up at the wall of the castle. He seemed to be looking at one of the windows—specifically the one he had been looking out of the day before.

Making his way towards him wasn't the easiest. The snow had been blown in dunes on the path, and sometimes the wind would slap him in the face. At one point, he was walking beneath one of the trees, and the wind dropped a load of snow on his head. As Horace got closer to Will, however, he saw that he was in less than his pajamas.

A light shirt, thin and barely adequate for inside wear during this time of year. His normal sleeping pants were cut halfway down his calves, and, as Robyn had assumed, shoeless.

Without saying anything, Horace slipped his jacket from his shoulders, and draped it over Will's own. Gripping his arm, Horace took one quick look around, seeing which doors were closest to enter. During the summer, sometimes there were tables and benches in the courtyard, and with the kitchens being so close, people decided to eat in the gardens. The doors that had been opened into the kitchen were closer than the doors the knight had exited from.

Putting an arm around Will, Horace lead him towards the door. The Ranger moved like a zombie, not even registering that Horace was moving him. The two stumbled towards the door, Will's frozen skin pressed against Horace's own.

* * *

"Would you at _least_ come to the fire, Will?" Horace tried again, throwing in another log into the hearth. He pulled a blanket around his own shoulders, turning back to face his partner. Will sat cross-legged on the bed, his back to Horace, and staring at the wall. When Horace turned, he let out a cry of frustration, seeing that he had shrugged the blankets off his shoulders once more.

Before he could snatch the blankets from the bed, and throw them back on Will, someone tapped lightly on the door. "It's open," Horace yelled, grabbing the blankets roughly from around the Ranger.

Halt slipped inside the doorway, a small tray in his hands. Seeing Horace's frustration as Will slipped from underneath the blankets, he set the tray down on a table, and walked towards them.

"Will," Horace took a breath, glaring down at him, " _please."_

As if he hadn't said anything, Will continued to stare at the wall. Halt moved beside Horace, studying Will. The knight tried once more to throw the blankets over his shoulders, and for a moment, he let them stay.

"Would you have some soup?" The older Ranger tried, eyeing his apprentice.

The young Ranger didn't respond.

Halt sighed, and then glanced to Horace. "Look, I have a meeting with Duncan and Crowley soon. Look after him, I'll be back when I can," he whispered, and turned towards the door. Before he left, however, he turned back. "Also," he continued, "be sure he eats that soup before it goes cold. And get him warm." With that, he opened the door, and left.

When Horace turned back, the blankets had been pushed to the floor, and Will sat with bare shoulders once more.

Seething in frustration, Horace finally snapped, "At least wear THE DAMN BLANKETS!"

Will, not affected by his boyfriend's yelling, shrugged, and held out his hand.

Horace paused, looking between the hand and Will's face before realizing what the hand was for. Grateful, Horace bent down and gathered the small pile of blankets in his arms. Setting them on the bed behind Will, he took one at a time, and wrapped the Ranger in it. His arm folded inside as Horace wrapped the first one. Soon enough, the Ranger was buried in a pile of blankets, and when Horace touched his forehead with his hand, he didn't seem as cold as before.

Sitting between him and the wall, Horace put a hand up to Will's face, caressing his cheek. "Why did you go out there?" he whispered.

The Ranger's eyes flicked to his, but looked away to the wall behind him immediately. "Did you see?" he murmured in return, a faraway look in his eyes.

Shaking his head, Horace used his other hand to brush Will's hair out of his eyes. "No. What did you want me to see?"

"Footprints."

Frowning, Horace shook his head. "Footprints?"

"Only mine were there," he breathed, "I was the only one that had been out there, before you."

He leaned forward, placing his forehead against Horace's shoulder. As he began to shake, not of coldness, but of despair, Horace wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and brought his body closer. He knew Halt wouldn't be returning anytime soon, and no other would be likely to show up at their door. Leaning back, he let Will put a hand on his side, and tuck his head underneath Horace's chin.

He didn't cease to shake for some time, but Horace didn't know what else he could do. A hand to the back of the head, silently stroking his tangled and uncombed hair, quietly whispering assurances that everything would be fine—but what was wrong in the first place?

No footprints, that was the problem. No one had been outside, even when Will would swear that he had seen someone.

Will's breathing became slower as he started to drop off. His face was cold against Horace's neck, but the shared body heat would eventually warm up the smaller man. Horace settled, keeping his hand on Will's head. Hopefully, his partner would sleep soundly, and not be too cold from his walk in the snow.

He was just starting to drift off when Will shifted. "Horace?" he murmured, not looking up.

"Hmm?"

"It's my fault," he whispered, his voice cracking. "It's my fault they're dead. Both of them," he moaned, burying his face closer to Horace's. "And I can't do anything about it. I'm so sorry."

* * *

The bed was cold beside him.

His back was cold, where the blankets must have slipped off, or been kicked away.

Horace stretched his arms, reaching above his head and flexing his hands. Lower, he straightened his legs out, stretching the stiffness out of his calves and thighs. His feet arched, and touched the lower bedpost. Sometimes, there were downsides to being so tall. He hit his head on plenty of things, not to mention beds being uncomfortable because he was too long. Plus, people could see him easily, so he couldn't blend into crowds like Will.

Will.

Turning over, the knight felt the bed beside him, feeling no warmth in the sheets except for where he had lain. Hadn't he fallen asleep with Will? Sitting up, Horace studied the room, immediately knowing that it wasn't his own. It was Will's temporary apartment, which he knew only held one bed. So where did he go?

Next to his head, the window shuddered, startling him. Moving the curtain aside, Horace glanced out, only to see a white-out on the other side of the window. The wind whipped, making the loose piece of glass rattle in its slots. Another blizzard had blown in.

But where had Will gone?

Pushing more of the covers away from him, his bare chest was met with frigid air. If he looked closely enough, he could see his breath fog in front of him.

The fire must've gone down in the night, even though he had built it up pretty well before he and Will had gone to bed. Groping around the foot of the bed, he eventually found his discarded shirt, and tugged it on over his head. Swinging his feet over the side, he hesitated to put his bare feet on the frosted stones.

Eventually he stood, wincing at the cold, and tip-toed over to the fireplace. After getting the fire going, he stood up straight, his feet used to the cold, and looked around to study the room better. Maybe Will had went closer to the fire, and fallen asleep in a chair?

But the room was empty. He was alone.

Horace didn't know what to expect, but he quickly threw on yesterday's clothes, and fled through the door. He would have no way of knowing where Will had gone. Even though he had no clue as to where his partner could have gone, he worried to think if Will was in danger or being reckless. Horace had a bad feeling about this. He already knew that his Ranger wasn't in the best condition, not after his freezing the day before. Nor was he thinking straight, after wandering outside with nothing on except loose pants and an over-sized bed shirt.

"Horace?" someone called, coming from the direction of the front gate.

Skidding to a halt, the knight turned to see another guard, one he was more familiar with. Her name was Joelle, but most just called her Jo. She jogged towards him, her leather armor only half fastened. "Jo," Horace greeted, catching his breath.

"Sir," she said more formally, "due to the blizzard, the front gates have been closed and anyone going out has been turned away. Jorge told me to notify you if I saw you." She saluted, and turned away.

"Jo," he said, falling in line beside her. "Have you been on gate duty this morning?" She nodded in response, saying nothing. The question was in her eyes however, when she looked over at him as they walked. "Do you recall anyone going out before the blizzard came in?"

She thought for a moment, her face scrunching up. Then she nodded once more, "Five people. A few stable boys, the stablemaster, and a visiting Ranger."

"Ranger Will?"

"Yes sir."

Horace nodded, but concealed his growing dread. He hadn't checked if Will's clothes had been in the room or not. If Will had gone out, and was stuck in the blizzard, it wasn't likely that he would survive. "Do you recall if he came back through the front gate?"

This time, she didn't have to think. "When the blizzard started to pick up, the stablemaster came out for his boys, and they all came in. I don't remember if Ranger Will came through or not, but I'm pretty sure he hadn't."

"Did he say where he was going? When he left?" Horace pressed, turning the corner with Jo. It looked like she was headed back to the front gate. It was still early, so her shift wouldn't be over for at least another hour.

"No," she shook her head as she said that, "he just said he had to look at something, and he would be back by the time the sun rose completely."

They arrived at the gate, where another guard stood with three boys and the stablemaster. They all looked up as he approached with Jo, but none said anything.

"If Ranger Will is still out there, I'll need to find him. He's been . . . sick and confused lately," Horace improvised. He just knew Will wouldn't survive out there, and that he had to find him before something happened.

"Oh, no, Horace," Jo grabbed his shoulder immediately, stopping his advance towards one of the smaller gates that wouldn't take so much manpower to open. Her use of his name in front of other guards didn't surprise the others, but instead showed the urgency. "You can't go out. I won't let you."

Horace raised an eye brow, slightly miffed that she would try to order him. The other guard, Jorge, who had a higher rank than Jo, but was obviously lower than Horace, stepped forward.

"She didn't mean it like that, sir," he said, "but the blizzard is a bad one, you see. You wouldn't be able to find Kicker in the stables in that weather, let alone find a Ranger wherever he went. Even if he were just in the courtyard again, you wouldn't be able to find him there. That's how bad the storm is, sir. To let you go out is to let you go to your death."

The knight was silent, looking between Jorge and Jo, going back and forth. Jo just looked worried, glancing back and forth to the door, and then back to him. She didn't know of their relationship, but she knew they were close. Close enough to risk everything. She wasn't sure how he would react to being denied. Jorge showed no emotion, except a fierce duty to his job. He wasn't to let anyone out, even him.

Sighing, Horace shoved his hands into his pockets. Extra time would give him time to prepare, and he wouldn't be rushing out. He could check to see if Will was clothed, and if he had taken his weapons. He could recruit Halt to help him again, knowing that the older Ranger would be wracked with worry when Horace told him that Will had wandered into the cold again.

He nodded. "Come find me when it dies down."

* * *

Five minutes ago, Jo came into his room, telling that there was a lull in the storm. Horace jumped at the chance, rocketing to his feet and dragging Halt behind him. Jo followed them down to the stables, where the few horses that were still there were covered in blankets. She helped the two of them pack a few extra blankets, and double checked that the storm really was receding. She also helped them prepare Tug, who had been left behind by his owner.

Now, the old Ranger and the stressed knight were crossing the moat, the small Ranger horse following behind loyally, towards the fresh, snow-covered fields that were cleared out of forets around the castle.

"So what has been up with Will, lately? First he spaced in the meeting, then he spaced and thought it was summer during a blizzard. Now he spaced again, and wandered off during _another_ blizzard."

Horace hesitated, knowing that Will had trusted him when he had told Horace this. But he didn't know where his Ranger was, and any help the grizzled Ranger could offer would help. "He said that he saw someone that had died through the window. Said that he knew that they had died, and he blamed himself for their deaths."

Halt frowned. "Died in Araluen? Not Redmont? He better not be riding to Redmont in this weather by himself."

"I don't think so," Horace said. "When he passed through the front gate, he told the guards he had to go check something out, and would be back before the sun rose completely."

They rode in silence for a moment, Halt thinking for a moment. Then he began to say something, but stopped, seemingly unsure. Then he seemed to throw all doubt away. "There might be a place he might've gone to. There was a death he was involved in, that affected him greatly. Technically two deaths. The grave of one of the people is actually nearby."

Halt didn't know the actual location of the grave, because it was a single stone in the middle of a nearby forest, but he did know the relative location. He quickly led the way to the area, giving into a canter that would carry them faster to their destination.

Eventually they arrived, and Halt motioned for Horace to go one way, and he went the direct opposite. For reasons unknown at the time, Tug followed after Horace and Kicker.

It wasn't long before Horace realized why Tug followed him, instead of the other Ranger.

He bolted ahead of the knight and battlehorse, heading for a pine tree with bowed limbs. The bowed branches allowed for a space beneath and near the trunk to be free of snow. Horace couldn't see underneath it due to a snow drift, and how high he was up on Kicker's back. But Tug's actions gave Horace the 'ok' to jump from his horse's back, and wade through the snow.

The first thing he saw was a rough cut stone, propped up against other, more natural shaped stones. Then he saw feet, covered in boots that looked thankfully familiar.

They moved as he slipped inside the small alcove, drawing up against the body that laid down there.

"Will?" Horace whispered, suddenly dreading that he would find his friend frozen to death, breathing his last few breaths.

"Mmm," he murmured, his face coming into view. His eyelids were dropping, his mouth formed into a natural frown, one that didn't seem so natural to someone as close to him as Horace. He had leaned against the trunk, facing the pile of stones at his feet.

Horace moved in beside him, crouching so his head didn't brush the branches and invariably knock down snow on them. Kneeling down beside his partner, the knight took his limp hands, after taking off his gloves, to feel how cold they were.

His hands were warm, despite not having any gloves.

"Where've you been, bud? What happened?" he whispered, sitting down beside him. Although he felt warm, Horace still slipped an arm around his boyfriend's waist, and drew him close. Will fell into Horace, his head ducking and settling on Horace's shoulder.

"After going out the gates," he said sleepily, "I crossed the moat and saw the blizzard coming. I went to the guard house, just the little waypoint that monitored the people coming in. Those guards had been called in, because only a madman would stay out in the weather that was coming. I sheltered in there, until the blizzard calmed down about a half hour ago. I've only been here about fifteen minutes."

Horace nodded, letting Will go silent. They sat in the day's quiet for a few minutes, before Horace felt Will hitch in his arms. Glancing down to him, he saw that he was crying. Tears were marking tracks down his face, but he was mostly holding them back. It looked as if he were holding back a cascade.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small, copper coin, and held it out to the Ranger. Will seemed puzzled for a moment, before Horace whispered: "For your thoughts."

A smile quirked on Will's lips, and he shakily reached out, and took the penny in his fingers. Twisting it around, he studied it.

Will curled tighter, leaning his head against Horace's torso. He took a deep breath, but didn't let it out. Instead, while keeping his eyes on the penny, he began a story:

"About a year ago, Halt and I were called to a house fire at the edge of the fief. We were all ready near the edge, so when this huge fire broke out, someone was sent for us. When we finally got there, we saw that it was a bigger house, belonging to one of the wealthier families in the area. Everyone in the family was out, except a woman and a boy.

"I dived into the front of the house, intending to go find the boy and the woman, who apparently was his mother. Halt was going to stay out with the family and the townspeople, to help fight the fire. It wasn't too hard to find the lady. She was smart enough to get to lower ground, but had succumbed to the smoke too early to get to the door. She was just inside, near the bottom of the stairwell. I think she must've fallen. I was able to help her out, slinging her arm over my shoulder and putting an arm around her waist. Her husband grabbed her as we came out, but she seemed to wake up with the resurgence of fresh air in her lungs. She told me that her son was upstairs, and had been sleeping. She didn't know if he was still there or not.

"I took of my cloak, not knowing why I kept it on in the first place. I started to head back into the house, but that was when one of the beams in the foyer fell. I was under it when it fell.

"Halt was there. He had seen me come out with the woman, and had come over to see if she needed any medical assistance. When he saw me go back in, however, he saw the beam crack, and ran after me. He grabbed my collar and pulled me back, just before I was crushed. After that beam fell, the whole structure of the house must've collapsed deeper in the house, and the stairwell went into flames. A minute later, the roof collapsed, and another half a minute, the entire house was a pile of burning wood. Biggest damn bonfire I'd seen."

Horace drew his arm tighter around Will, realizing what had happened. But the house, he had said, was at the edge of the Redmont fief. Why was the grave here, just outside of Castle Araluen?

Surprisingly, Will continued: "When the woman found out that I had never gotten in to find her son, she ran off. I had gone after her, per request of her husband, who suspected that she would do something rash. I caught up to her in this forest, but too late. The noose was already around her neck, the other end already tied high up in the branches of a tree. She didn't know that I was there, but she fell in my line of sight all the same. I watched as she killed herself." He paused again, but this time Horace sensed that he had more to say. A minute later, he said: "That was who I'd seen in the courtyard. I had blocked that memory from my mind for years, but when I glanced outside to the courtyard, all I saw was her. It all came back. I remembered, after so long of forgetting.

"And I didn't want to remember that," he chocked, sobbing, "I don't want to remember it. Halt told me that it wa-wasn't my fault," his voice hitched, "but it was. I couldn't get her son. I couldn't stop her. I could only bury her."

Horace didn't know what to say. It was all that he could do to draw Will closer, wrapping both arms around him. Horace clutched Will to him, and he felt Will's arms snake around his own waist, and bury his face into his chest.

"It's not," he whispered into Will's ear, although he wasn't sure if Will was actually listening. "It's not your fault. It wasn't, and never will be. She made her own choices, and there was no way for you to find the boy with dying yourself. It's not, it's not your fault," he repeated. He continued saying that, varying little, until he felt Will's body relax against his. Still, even after his partner had fallen into sleep, he continued to quietly repeat the mantra. It hadn't been his fault. He had no control over the actions of others.

There had been nothing he could do, except what he had done.


End file.
